Darling
by mishageddon
Summary: Eames has always been the one to break hearts. He never expected to be on the receiving end of his own bullshit. light Arthur/Eames slash. Allusions to Eames's mother.


**Darling. **_(revised)_**  
**

When Eames was young his mother always turned to him and smirked. She was a tiny, soft woman and she always smelled like cherries, cologne and cards. She'd smirk her soft beautiful smirk and say, "Darling, you will break hearts one day." Then go back to making whatever she making, or cleaning the kitchen, living room, her room, his room. She was a woman constantly in motion. If she wasn't moving, she was driving, sitting at a poker table, or dead.

She was always there for him. When he woke up from half-remembered nightmares in a cold sweat and tears streaming down his face she'd bustle in, ease him into her lap and cuddle with him whispering sweet nothings and murmurings in his ear over and over again. One always stood out to Eames, 'darling'. "Oh, my darling boy . . . . . . darling, hush . . . . . it's okay darling . . . . . it was just a dream, darling."

Darling.

He was her darling, her totem, her sweet thing.

_Darling._

When Eames was ten he told his mother he could be anyone he wanted to be. His mother had smirked and asked how.

"Like this!" He'd happily proclaimed standing up on his chair to showcase the pretty pink dress he was wearing, he cleared his throat and then said in a throaty female voice, "Hey there, Tiger, how can I be of service tonight?" His Mother had laughed and he had laughed and they laughed for so long and so hard they fell on the floor clutching their sides and then they laughed so much more they eventually forgot what they were laughing about and just grinned mischievously at each other.

When Eames was fourteen he had sex with a girl for the first time. He told his mother almost immediately and she smirked at him. "How was it?" She asked. "Dreadful, nothing like the movies." She set down her tea cup and got a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "Darling, those people have had years and years of practice. Don't forget, unless you _really_ like this girl, don't get her pregnant." Blushing, Eames let his mother kiss his forehead and head off to her garden.

When Eames was sixteen he admitted to his mother he had slept with a boy once and she smirked. Passing him his morning tea she asked him, "Did you make sure your room was clean beforehand, darling?" As he was sputtering she kissed his head and headed off to work.

When Eames was seventeen his mother told him she was dieing, when he asked why she smiled at him and stroked his shaggy, dark brown hair. "My Darling left me with you and he never came back." Eames had never cried so much in one night.

When Eames was twenty-three he was offered a job to go into dreams and pretend to be anyone he wanted. Given the title "Forger". Eames had automatically accepted and was thrown into a restaurant to meet the team he was assigned to.

One of the men had a very regal look to him; he held himself high and was obviously _always _on guard. His pale complexion was only even moreso pronounced by his dark blue three-piece suit, crisp white undershirt, black satin tie and ebony hair, which he slicked-back in the most sexy way Eames thought possible.

And, oh, Eames knew he was in love the moment his eyes fell on this divine creature. He shook hands with Cobb and Nash, but never took his eyes off that man. When the hand was offered Eames took it, "Pleased to meet you, my name is Arthur Clarke." Eames cocked a dark brow committing the name to memory, "The pleasure is all mine." Eames bows his head and brushes his lips against Arthur's knuckles, "Darling."

_Darling._

When he's twenty-six Eames gives up and travels, (RE: steals things, documents theft, returns them. . . . eventually). Arthur has turned him down numerous times and the dreams just don't amuse Eames like they did right then. Eames doesn't run, no, he just avoids. Something like five years later Cobb himself calls Eames back to service. Arthur is still there and this job is very important. Then Cobb gets chased around a bit for his past "actions" and Eames is so amused he can't help but join.

Eames had always been the one turning people down, rejecting and blowing people off. He'd never been on the receiving end of his bullshit until he met Arthur. Something about the man turned Eames on. And something about Eames made Arthur hate the man like he was some diseased monster and not a harmless (okay, that was a lie), sexy (Eames had no modesty, never will), kind (another lie. . . . .), self-serving, arrogant, British man.

Eames looks at the table Saito was laying on, dying, and back to where Arthur stood shooting helplessly with his rifle. Eames smirks and walks over to him. "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger darling." He says as he pulls out his grenade launcher and shoots the prick Arthur hadn't been able to get. Arthur casts him an impressed, but wary look (how _does_ he pull that off? Eames wonders) and Eames smirks as he walks away.

The job is over and everyone is parting ways, Saito is going back to wherever he came from in a few days, Fischer is heading off to his fancy hotel, Dom is headed home, Arthur is going back to his home till another job comes up, Yusuf is laying low till he can go home again and Ariadne is going back to France and school in a few weeks.

Eames is the only one who's lost. He didn't plan for this. He didn't plan to leave again. He didn't plan to abandon it all, to drop it all again. He didn't plan to drop Arthur. Especially not on his own accord. Arthur has already headed out without even saying so much as goodbye to Eames and the Brit sighs; he picks up his expensive looking suitcase and heads out after the other man. At the pick-up lot Arthur walks over to Eames.

He smirks and does something that changes Eames whole life.

Standing on his tiptoes Arthur kisses Eames softly on the mouth, and when he pulls away whispers, softly, oh, so softly,

_"Goodbye Darling."_


End file.
